Before we set out, there were more magazines destroyed. Great numbers would not leave the town, but concealed themselves in the wine cellars, which they had broken open, and were left there; others, after we were gone, followed us. Many came up to the army dreadfully cut and wounded by the French cavalry, who rode through the long lines of these lame defenceless wretches, slashing among them as a school-boy does amongst thistles. Some of them, faint and bleeding, were forced to pass alongst the line as a warning to others.--Cruel warning! Could the urgency of the occasion justify it? There was something in the appearance of these poor, emaciated, lacerated wretches, that sickened me to look upon. Many around me said, “Our commanders are worse than the French: will they not even let us die in peace, if they cannot help us?” Surely this was one way to tantalize the men, and render them familiar to scenes of cruelty. Dreadful as our former march had been, it was from Villa Franca that the march of death may be said to have begun. On the day after we left that place, we were attacked by the French, but drove them back, and renewed our forlorn march. From Villa Franca to Castro is one continued toil up Monte del Cebiero. It was one of the sweetest scenes I ever beheld, could our eyes have enjoyed any thing that did not minister to our wants. There was nothing to sustain our famished bodies, or shelter them from the rain or snow. We were either drenched with rain or crackling with ice. Fuel we could find none. The sick and wounded that we had been still enabled to drag with us in the waggons, were now left to perish in the snow. The road was one line of bloody foot-marks, from the sore feet of the men; and on its sides lay the dead and the dying. Human nature could do no more. Donald M‘Donald, the hardy Highlander, began to fail. He, as well as myself, had long been bare-footed and lame; he, that had encouraged me to proceed, now himself lay down to die. For two days he had been almost blind, and unable, from a severe cold, to hold up his head. We sat down together--not a word escaped our lips. We looked around--then at each other, and closed our eyes. We felt there was no hope. We would have given in charge a farewell to our friends; but who was to carry it? There were, not far from us, here and there, above thirty in the same situation with ourselves. There was nothing but groans, mingled with execrations, to be heard, between the pauses of the wind. I attempted to pray, and recommend myself to God; but my mind was so confused, I could not arrange my ideas. I almost think I was deranged. We had not sat half an hour; sleep was stealing upon me; when I perceived a bustle around me. It was an advanced party of the French: unconscious of the action, I started upon my feet, levelled my musket, which I had still retained, fired, and formed with the other stragglers. The French faced about and left us. There were more of them than of us.